


Off Balance

by BlackAngel001



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Family Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Ra's Al Ghul is a jerk, So is his daughter, but they work through it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackAngel001/pseuds/BlackAngel001
Summary: Tim and Damian talk, and come to an understanding with each other. Based on a post by AutumnHobbit on Tumblr.





	Off Balance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AutumnHobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnHobbit/gifts).



> So another AutumnHobbit inspired fic. I make no promises on the quality of this fic as I wrote it when I was severely sleep deprived. Enjoy!

When Ra’s al Ghul issued an invitation to ‘The New Batman’ to meet somewhere in Gotham to talk privately, Tim tried his best to talk Dick out of going. Talking to the Demon’s Head meant nothing good and was sure to lead to trouble. Dick argued with him, of course, saying that not going would give Ra’s the wrong idea, that he was a coward or some nonsense. When Tim had turned to Damian for support (shocking, yes), the boy was silent for a long moment. Then he turned his head and muttered that Grayson could do as he pleased. 

So now, here they are. Batman, Robin, and Red Robin standing before the Demon and his right hand man, and probably surrounded by ninjas ready to kill them. Red Robin had contacted Red Hood to let him know about the meeting, to ask for his support; there hadn’t been a reply and he only hoped the vigilante was somewhere nearby.

“I’d heard there was a new Batman swinging around Gotham,” began the old man, “and had to see for myself the truth of it. I’m not sure if I should congratulate you or not; the cowl is a heavy burden and full of expectations. I do hope you are up for the challenge, Richard.”

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way,” Batman growled, “let’s get to why you’re really here.”

“I told you, to confirm the rumors. Although I did have a moment of slight disappointment when I realized it was you. I expected someone else, someone more equal to the man who began the legend.”

Red Robin expected Ra’s to cut his gaze to Robin and was surprised to see the man glancing at him. Well, that wasn’t creepy. Beside Batman, Robin shifted ever so slightly.

“But then, you always did manage to surprise, didn’t you, Richard? Unlike some of us gathered here.”

Now Ra’s had steady eyes on his grandson and Robin tsked. He folded his arms over his chest and stood, impossibly, straighter.

“I am aware of my many inadequacies, Grandfather. You don’t usually repeat yourself or ramble like you have just now.”

What? Red Robin glanced at the young bird, who appeared to be staring past Ra’s. The Demon and Bat spoke a bit more, briefly, before the man left. He never looked back at his grandson.

Once they were back in the cave, Dick slid the cowl back, ran a hand through his hair and sighed. 

“Well, that went well.” Neither of his brothers answered. “Damian-”

“There is nothing to speak about, Grayson. Grandfather has never let me forget my failures, and it has certainly been further beaten into my head since I’ve arrived here.” Damian peeled off his mask and threw it on a monitor. “I’m changing and going to bed.”

Tim watched the child march off with his head high and fists curled. Dick sat in the chair at the main computer and rubbed his hands over his face.

“Shouldn’t have taken him, should’ve known it would mean trouble.”

“I told you it would,” reminded Tim. “And you heard him before, where Batman goes, Robin goes.”

Dick snorted. “Robins do have a history of following even when told not to, huh?”

Tim nodded. His brain was trying to connect something about what had happened tonight, but he was so tired he couldn’t manage. His yawn was big enough to crack his jaw. Dick winced. 

“Go to bed, Timmy. I’ll finish up here and head that way soon myself.”

Tim wanted to object, simply because he knew that Dick would stay down here most of the night but his feet shuffled toward the locker rooms anyway. Before he knew it, he was upstairs and collapsed in bed, consciousness fading quickly. 

He didn’t dream often. It was a blessing, really, after everything he’d seen and done. He did dream that night. Of Bruce giving him a look of quiet disappointment when he failed somehow, of his father raging and breaking his things. He dreamed of the few times Dick seriously reprimanded him. Jason yelling that he was a fake Robin. Himself crying quietly in the bathroom thinking he was a failure to the legacy Dick had created. 

He saw Ra’s staring down at Damian with cold indifference, telling him without inflection that he was a failed experiment, that he would never be worthy of the cowl or the League. He saw Talia standing silently by her father’s shoulder, glaring at her child for his failures and weakness.

He heard himself speak down about Damian, how he could never make it as Robin, how he may be Bruce’s son biologically, but he could never be his son in the ways that mattered.

He saw Damian, standing by himself in the cave and watching the interaction between himself, Dick and Alfred. Saw the child try to join in, to make himself known, and being brushed off by Tim. Saw a little boy shrink in on himself and his eyes going down for a brief second before standing ramrod straight again and spitting fierce words back.

Tim jerked awake. 

He lay in bed for a time, gasping a bit and staring at the ceiling of his room. The backs of his hands covered his eyes and the dream replayed itself.

Good God.

He’d done the one thing he’d sworn to himself to never do: never put another person down. He knew what that was like, how much it hurt to feel and be told he was inadequate. 

Tim didn’t like that Damian had charged in, tried to kill him, and then taken his place as Robin. Tim didn’t like that Damian was taking his big brother from him. Tim was feeling threatened by an eight year old.

Jesus, how pathetic was that?

What right did he have to say that? Dick hadn’t really liked Jason taking Robin at first either, or Tim for that matter, but he’d never said anything disparaging to them about it. He’d helped them learn and grow. Jason had tried to kill him and definitely didn’t like being replaced; they weren’t exactly braiding each other’s hair, but they had an appreciation and respect for one another. Once Tim got past the ‘trying to kill me’ part, he was glad to count on Jason to have his back.

Tim groaned. Damian had lived with assassin's, been trained to kill. His mother had fed him built up stories about a man he’d never met, built up this great idea in his head, then dropped him like a bag of rocks. His grandfather openly and (apparently) frequently put him down and compared him to others. Tim couldn’t prove it, but he had the suspicion that his name had come up a lot.

And at the manor? That wasn’t much better, was it? Of course Damian would treat him like an enemy, he’d been told he was inferior to Drake. The man he’d wanted to meet most in the world, his father, treated him more like an inconvenience than anything, then went and disappeared, leaving him with the very people he’d been told were better than him. 

So what did Tim do? He, a nearly grown man, acted like a five year old. The guilt gnawed at him. What was he going to do? How was he going to make this right? Tim stayed awake in the dark for hours, until his alarm went off and the early morning sun started to come in through the window.

He couldn’t stand to lay there anymore, so he got up and pulled on a pair of sweats and a shirt. Coffee, he needed coffee. 

Nearing the kitchen, he heard the familiar sounds of clanking china and the whistle of the kettle. It made him smile a bit. Alfred was nearly always up first, and provided a listening ear and great advice with breakfast. Maybe he could help now.

When he pushed into the kitchen, though, he stopped short at the sight before him. Damian was kneeling on a bar stool, carefully gripping the steaming kettle in one hand and balancing with the other. He gingerly climbed down then headed to the low breakfast bar where a cup was waiting. He poured the water, then set the kettle on a folded towel nearby. He watched the tea steep for a minute.

“What, Drake?”

The voice snapped Tim out of his stupor. “Oh. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” returned Damian shortly. 

“Uh. You’re up early.”

Damian tsked. “Really? Small talk?”

Tim frowned and went to the fridge to pull out the orange juice. As he was getting a glass, he heard Damian prepare his tea and settle on the stool and was sipping quietly. He felt so akward now, with guilt he wasn’t sure what to do with and his early morning realizations. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to act. 

“Spit it out, Drake,” growled Damian.

What?

“What?”

“Gloat about how Grandfather is right, that you’re better than I am and always have been. How you are a better heir not only for Father but for Grayson as well. That Robin is rightfully yours and I’m just an intruder.” During his passionate rant, Damina never once turned to look at him. His shoulders were hunched in around his ears and his head was down. His hands were gripped around the china cup. 

“Your grandfather is an ass, and an idiot.”

Damian whirled around with his mouth open, probably to defend Ra’s before it snapped shut and he looked to the side.

“...I’m an ass and idiot too.”

Damian glanced at him and Tim sighed, moving to the bar with his glass of juice.

“Ra’s was wrong. You’re not a failure, or whatever. An irritating, spoiled brat sure but. Not a failure.”

It was quiet for a long time. Damian was hunched back over his cup and they didn’t look at each other.

“I shouldn’t exist,” came a soft voice.

Tim popped his neck from turning it so quickly. He saw Damian swallow hard.

“I shouldn’t. Father never wanted me, and Mother only had me to have a hold over the Batman. She didn’t even carry me herself. They...when they saw how horrible I was, how much of a failure, they said it would’ve been better if I didn’t exist.”

“Damian.” Tim reached out and grabbed both of his shoulders, making him turn toward Tim. Damian kept his face and eyes adverted. 

“Damian. You are not a mistake. Ever. Sure Bruce never knew about you until recently, but he does want you. He never thought he’d have me, or Dick or Jason, but he got us. And he got you. You two just didn’t have time to get to know each other, that’s all. Never, ever say it’d be better if you didn’t exist again, got me?”

Damian gave a tiny nod. 

“Look, I’ve given you shit you didn’t deserve. Some of it you did; you did try to kill me, after all. But a lot of it you didn’t. That’s on me. I’m the adult, I should’ve acted better. I’m sorry.”

“....Me too.”

Tim let go of Damian and leaned his forearms on the bar, head hanging. Christ, what a mess.

“I was serious about Ra’s too. He’s a stuck up prick and he’s wrong about you. You do alright as Robin. You wouldn’t still be flying with Batman if you weren’t.”

There was a quiet sniffle. Tim pretended he didn’t hear it.

“You make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean you failed. It means you learn and try harder next time. Dick is a good teacher, you’ll learn a lot from him if you listen.”

The sipped their drinks for a long moment. Finally Damian spoke up.

“Drake?”

“Hmm?”

“Do not tell Grayson about this.”

Tim looked appropriately horrified. “God no. Could you imagine? He’d do a group hug or some crap.” He shuddered.

Damian nodded solemnly. “And he’d go on and on about brotherhood and whatnot. Better to avoid the entire situation.”

“Agreed.”

They sipped some more.

“Drake?”

“Hmm?”

Very, very softly, “Thank you.”

Tim grinned around the rim of his glass. “Yep.”


End file.
